


Why's my name on your arm?

by OrionMoka



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrionMoka/pseuds/OrionMoka
Summary: Soulmarks. A name tattooed on your skin from birth. Most people don't have them, but a certain General does.It's just, no one's been able to translate it before. Imagine his surprise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Some random Norse words strung together, please forgive the language abuse!

        Sephiroth was bored. Dismally so, sitting in a meeting solely focused on internal politics, department heads squabbling over budget adjustments. He stared ruefully at his left arm, lost in thought. It had been his default distraction for as long as he knew. The untranslatable markings on his forearm, his soulmark.

        Hojo had puzzled over them for years after he was born, intent on deciphering the strange symbols to prove that unlike everyone else, Sephiroth had no soulmate. No database or translater had been able to give it meaning though. Somewhere along the line, Hojo lost interest. The scientist had decided it was a marking of the gods, in an ancient Cetra dialect, but there had been no supportive evidence. It was a deranged man's justification for something he didn't want to acknowledge or understand. Except Sephiroth didn't understand it either.

        The marks were solid black, like ink, and the public had puzzled over them for years before losing interest. Most characters had a vertical line as a base, various short lines and an occasional dot sprouting out at different angles or crossing over them. There were two segments, two words he believed, but he had never known or cared to investigate what they were. In times like this though, in meetings he was required to attend but had no part in, he always found his thoughts drifting down toward the marks, and the desire to have a soulmate. Prove Hojo wrong. Prove everyone wrong. He was just another human, another person, not a god.

        Okay maybe he was  _ almost _ a god. He was pretty indestructible after all. It left him wondering, who could be the perfect match for him? Who had the planet decided belonged with him?

~oOo~oO~oOo~oOo~oO~oOo~

        The meeting had ended, thankfully, and he was allowed to leave, his work done for the day. His office was clear of paperwork, but his apartment was empty and hollow, and so Sephiroth found himself wander the halls for a time, drifting to lower floors. Zack and Angeal had mentioned a few cadets showing potential, his subconscious must have pulled the memory. It was late into the evening however, and the cadet floors were empty, barracks full of snores. He knew the program was rigorous, had redesigned it after graduating from it.

        He had just stolen a cup of coffee from the Instructor's lounger when he rounded the corner. Almost rounded it. There were voices in the hall just beyond, young ones, and angry at something- some _ one-  _ he corrected, listening intently. He didn't need to be a trained SOLDIER to recognise the thuds for what they were, strikes against a body, against flesh. Sephiroth set his coffee mug gently on the floor, next to the wall, and stepped around the corner, watching, waiting. It didn't take long.

        Thirteen cadets, at first count, bumped to fourteen as they shifted to reveal the one on the floor. He noted their names, small plaques affixed to their uniforms. He recognised their faces from Cadet Program applications. 

        “You are aware of the regulations. It is three hours past curfew,” he stared impassively.  They remained unmoving. 

        He knew, of course, what they'd been doing. Angeal had found Zack in a much similar situation, before deciding to mentor However, he wasn't sure what the proper reaction would be, so he contented himself with memorising names to ask Angeal about in the morning. 

        “Return to your bunks,” he instructed, watching as they slowly shifted into motion. When two made to hoist the one from the floor up, he shook his head. “Leave him.” And they did, nervously stepping beside him, passing him to get to the elevators in complete silence. As if there would be no reprimand come the following morning if they followed basic instructions. He was sure Angeal had a few lectures saved up, and Genesis would be more than happy to- no, he reminded himself. Last time Genesis interacted with cadets they spent three weeks sharing the SOLDIER gym while the cadet one was being repaired. Zack would have something to add though. The raven haired Firsts were both better at dealing with people.

        He crouched down, turning the remained cadet’s head towards him from the floor and began scanning him for injuries. Strife, he vaguely recalled the name, verifying with the name on his uniform. He wasn't conscious.

        Shifting limbs carefully, checking involuntary responses, he deemed nothing had been broken. Fractured possibly, he would need x-rays, and significant tissue damage, potentially organ damage. He wondered how long they had beaten the blond. Contusions were already visible, some turning red and others beginning to swell. They'd managed to avoid seriously bruising his face.

        Lifting the lithe blond, one arm at his back and another under his knees, he started towards the infirmary. There would be no one there at this hour, but he had enough medical experience to do what was needed. Incident report, full catalogue of injuries. That would mean visually inspecting, x-rays, checking for a concussion. Maybe an MRI, he added, noting blood at the back of Strife's head. It took him another moment to realise it was on his coat, sliding down to leave a trail of drops on the floor. He re-adjusted his grip to press the wound against his shoulder to slow the blood flow. Strife stirred at the motion. Soft platinum tufts brushed against his chin as the cadet tried to raise his head, only for it to fall back against him.

        “Why's my name….” the boy trailed off. Clearly awake but not cohesive yet. He certainly hoped there wasn't brain damage interfering with the cadet’s thought process. “Your arm?” The head fell forward, chin resting on his chest as Strife tried to focus on the arm curled around him from behind his back. Strife was so small his forearm was wrapped back around the blond's chest, the markings visible.

        “Why's my name on your arm?” he was asked, the words suddenly spoken with clarity. Sephiroth stopped walking.

        He assumed Cadet Strife's vision was impaired, or mental faculties weren't processing correctly.

        “It is a marking of the gods, not your name,” he humoured Hojo's declarations. He couldn't see Strife's face, but he felt the head shaking back and forth as it returned to resting against his shoulder. There were nearly to the infirmary now, and he was becoming more concerned about the head wound.

        “It's not though,” the blond was beginning to lose awareness as he spoke, “It's Old Nibel. Why do you have… a tattoo in Old…..” Strife was falling unconscious.

        “I need you to stay awake, Strife,” he gently shook the blond,  striding into the infirmary. To his surprise there was a member of staff still there, despite most of the lights being off. The motion sensors lit the rest of the space when he entered though, alerting the woman. She looked up and immediately set about preparing a bed.

        “'m sorry, just too tired,” he heard, the last thing before Strife's head dropped forward again, and he looked at the attendant in concern, explaining how he had found the Cadet, what he suspected of his injuries. They set to work.

        They'd managed to rouse him once more, ruling out a concussion with standard testing and a scan. The main concerns were cracked ribs and soft tissue damage, which would take time to heal.

        Out of pure curiosity to see if the boy still recognised the markings in the morning, Sephiroth had stayed the night in the infirmary, at Cloud's side. Cloud, because as soon as the attendant printed his chart, the first name had come to his lips with uncanny familiarity. 

~oOo~oO~oOo~oOo~oO~oOo~

        Cloud blinked awake the following morning, unsure of his surroundings. White, clean, sterile. Scratchy blanket. 

        Infirmary. 

        Okay, he let out a sigh, startling as the noise of it caused a disturbance to his side. Movement. He turned his head to look at Sephiroth. 

        Sephiroth.

        Long silver hair. Knee high boots. Black coat- fucking hell, how hard had they hit his head? He could only remember up to a certain point last night but there’s no way the  _ General _ was standing next to his bed in the infirmary-

        “Cloud,” the man purred, and it was a  _ pur. _ What the hell was going on. Why did the General even know his name? He was nobody, just a cadet, a grunt, and a runt of the pack at that. He could tell from the pain in his ribs he wasn’t dreaming. So this was… real?

        General Sephiroth was standing next to his bed in the infirmary.

        “S-sir?” he sat up with a spike of pain through his core.

        Sephiroth stood up and went to the door. He was leaving, that was okay. It made more sense than if he decided to stay. Except, he was locking the door. From the inside. 

        Cloud watched stiffly as the General of SHINRA’s SOLDIER army approached his bedside once more, observing him in a way that made Cloud feel insurmountably small. The next movement was an arm being held in front of him, the sleeve being pulled up. 

        “Last night, you seemed to think something of this. Does it hold true?”

        And Cloud stared. That was a soulmark.

        A soulmark on General Sephiroth with  _ his name _ on it.

        But this was  _ Sephiroth. _ He wouldn’t want….. Cloud looked down at himself, the bandages, the bruises.

        He was so weak.

        “It’s okay, if you want to pretend it’s a tattoo. It’s okay,” he tried to turn away from the man. There was a huff of disbelief, or maybe agitation, behind him.

        “Cadet  _ Strife,” _ Cloud immediately hated the way his last name sounded coming from those lips, “when I ask a  _ question, _ I expect an  _ answer.  _ So. Can you read this mark?” Cloud’s head snapped around at the tone the General was using. He focused briefly on the man’s face, then dropped his gaze to the arm still held in front of him.

        He nodded.

        “Translate it,” the order came, and he wasn’t sure where this was going. Surely at 23 the General would have translated his own soulmark already. Maybe… he was testing?

        “HiminnStormrVindr NauõugrBeiskr,” he said blandly. “Directly, heaven storm air and unwilling one. The latter can also be angry, exasperation, or in pain.”

        “You asked last night why your name was on my arm…” the General trailed off, and boy could hear the disappointment in the man’s tone. No surprise.

        “In common, the loose translation  _ is _ Cloud Strife.” he murmured, raising a hand to run through his bangs in frustration. This wasn’t fair. He’d never had a chance. He didn’t have a soulmark of his own and  _ The  _ General fucking Sephiroth had his, and he wouldn’t even get to-

_         The _ General fucking Sephiroth was sitting at the edge of his bed, long arms wrapping around him and pulling him in and-

        Kissing him. The General was kissing him. Sephiroth. Was kissing. Him.

 

        Cloud’s mind short circuited.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Only %15 of people have soulmarks. It's very rare to find a matching set, most are one-sided marks.**
> 
> **There is no magical connection or instant feelings for each other, the mark _only means_ that person is perfect for whoever has it. They still have to go through the awkward start and get to know each other like any other relationship.**
> 
> **Not all soulmates stay together. The one _with_ the mark isn't always perfect for the one with _out_. (Obviously endgame here is Sefikura but there will be problems along the way.)**

~oOo~oO~oOo~oOo~oO~oOo~

        Sephiroth was… morose, sitting in his office, blandly going through the motions of completing paperwork without any motivation to get through the never-ending stacks on his office desk. Progress was slow, so slow in fact, than when Angeal and Genesis came around to bring Wutaian takeout for lunch, the secretaries of various departments had run out of room and begun to stack it on the  _ floor _ .

        He’d been waiting for them to arrive, desperately, but wouldn’t allow himself to show it. He needed advice, social advice, and Genesis had always been his go-to, most reliable person for that. Angeal’s logic usually balanced the auburn’s outrageous suggestions into some semblance of a coherent plan of action. So when Angeal finally took note of his stoic silence and questioned him on it, he waited until Genesis locked the office door, and then he spoke.

        He told of how, for the longest time he’d worried the marks on his arm really weren’t a soulmark. How Hojo could have had him tattooed as an infant, before he grew to recognise anything about his person had changed. Of how perhaps it was some strange birthmark, but the lines and dots were always to precise, too deliberate looking. That no matter the hours spent researching, he’d never found a translation and had lost most hope for ever discovering what it meant. Then, he told them, as if by fate, he’d had the encounter in the hall, offering the cadet names to Angeal to do with as he pleased save for the last, the one on the floor, because he held on to that name and gave it only reluctantly as he shared the trip to the infirmary, the conversation with the lightweight blond in his arms. His fears the translation was only a whimsical hallucination of a concussed cadet. Except it wasn’t and the morning alluded to that, lead to an embrace, to a  _ kiss _ because he couldn’t contain his eagerness, his intensity or passion at finding the one fated to be his. His perfect person.  _ Cloud. _

        Eventually, his recounting reached it’s termination with the revelation the following morning,  _ this _ morning, and how he’d been waiting for them because he didn’t know what to do, what to think, just now. 

        Cloud, his  _ soulmate _ Cloud, had not reacted as he’d anticipated. To be the soulmate of  _ the _ General Sephiroth, SOLDIER First Class, he thought anyone would be delighted.

        Not Cloud.

        Cloud had gone completely still, frozen in either delight or shock, and he was assuming the latter at this point. And then he’d jerked back, shoving Sephiroth forward, and in his surprise the General hadn’t been holding the blond with any strength and indeed found himself pushed backwards, and then he’d been  _ slapped. _

        Sephiroth could count on one hand the number of times he’d been slapped before. On one finger, actually, and it’d taken him so long to register the fact, to realise what had happened, and to respond to anything outside his own mind in those moments, that when he regained complete awareness, the IV was ripped out, tip leaking to the floor, the monitors blaring incoherently at the loss of any readings, and  _ Cloud was gone. _

        He had wanted, so desperately wanted, to chase the love of his life down, follow his trail through the hallways to capture him and cling to him for the rest of his life, to protect Cloud from anything and anyone that might wish his small soulmate harm, but reason held him back because clearly, something hadn’t gone right. 

        He’d tried his best to reason why Cloud had run on his way to his office, and through the remainder of that day into the next, into this meeting in his office where his productivity had decreased dramatically. He could think of many explanations for Cloud’s reaction, which he shared with the pair of Firsts staring at him in stunned silence.

        Cloud may have been surprised at finding he had a soulmate. Might have been shocked that Sephiroth had kissed him, shocked the  _ General _ would want him, but who wouldn’t? Cloud was a sight, no doubt. He might be scared to involve himself with a SOLDIER, or someone of higher rank. He might be worried over the reaction of others, of the Silver Elite fanclub threatening him. Being Sephiroth’s soulmate made him an instant target for enemies abound, made him a media spotlight for SHINRA’s Public Relations department and any other tabloid or outlet. Perhaps the four year age difference frightened him, or Sephiroth’s interactions with the labs.

        Otherwise, his mind had supplied the less desirable consideration that Cloud didn’t  _ want _ a soulmate, didn’t want  _ him. _ Didn’t want a relationship with someone so publicly known, or perhaps he didn’t find Sephiroth attractive. Genesis scoffed at the mere implication, but he ignored it and continued on with the torrential downpour of doubts the blond might have had because Sephiroth was deeply concerned about this.

        He didn’t want to pressure the cadet into anything, understood that his desires might not be returned. But he didn’t  _ know _ anything for certain because Cloud had  _ run _ from him, and he was waiting to talk to these two before approaching the timid blond. Cloud was evidently a shy creature, based on the instructor reports in his files. Has potential, high intelligence scores, good leadership concepts, surprising strength for his stature and incredible stamina and endurance. He tries not to think long on the words  _ stamina  _ or  _ endurance  _ as they bring unwarranted flashes of flushed skin, hot lips, searing eyes and a significant lack of clothing to Sephiroth’s mind and that’s only one possibility for how this might go because not all soulmates stay together. Unlike matching marks, like Genesis and Angeal had, one sided soulmarks,  _ most _ soulmarks, meant the person  _ with _ the mark isn’t always perfect for the one  _ without.  _ Cloud was evidently right for him, but it was possible  _ Sephiroth _ wasn’t right for Cloud, and that thought terrified him more than any assortment of painful experiments Hojo could throw at him.

        In the end, they decide, it’s best to have Zackary introduce the blond to all of them at the same time, in the controlled space of Angeal’s apartment, because to his surprise and envious delight, the Puppy knows his Cloud well. They persuade him to wait a week, however, to allow his soulmate time to process the news. In the meantime, he needs to avoid the cadet floors, the lower training rooms, anywhere the blond might be in fear of spooking him.

        Friday. He would see his small love again Friday night.


	3. Chapter 3

~oOo~oO~oOo~oOo~oO~oOo~

        The second his soulmate entered Angeal’s apartment, every instinct told him to surge forward and wrap the small figure in his arms, never to be let go. Sephiroth reigned the impulses in, however, to observe the blond’s rigid stature, the slight trembling brought on no doubt by nerves. Cloud was resolutely staring at the floor, gaze never rising as he politely greeted Angeal, then Genesis as _ Commander Hewley  _ and _ Commander Rhapsodos, _ respectively. Zackary had brought the blond and immediately abandoned him for the lasagna Angeal had just finished. 

        Sephiroth stayed seated, quietly, watching as Genesis placed a hand on Cloud’s lower back and guided him into the chair across from his own. The auburn said this would be easier, since Cloud could look at any of them but his default head direction would be Sephiroths. Having multiple people here also took some of the pressure off at being alone with an authority figure. Not that it was any  _ less _ intimidating to have the SOLDIER General, Commanders, and Lieutenant all sitting around him. Angeal brought the dish out, portioning it onto their plates, and they ate for the most part in silence. 

        The moment it changed, he could feel the tension leaking away and held his breath in anticipation. Cloud had taken a steady breath, straightened his spine, and was now looking straight at him, crystal pools locking onto emerald.

        “Do you often kiss people without their consent, sir?” Cloud was smirking now.

        It was an adorable expression, one corner of his lips quirked up creating a small dimple on that side, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. When he finally registered the question, nothing could have contained the blush that spread across his cheeks, lighting pale skin in embarrassment. He disregarded the shutter of Angeal’s PHS going off as Cloud continued.

        “Do you think they’d do anything if I filed for sexual harassment?”

        He was dimly aware of Genesis choking on his wine in the background, because Cloud Strife was smiling at him, just a small closed lip grin. And then he laughed, he was laughing, a quiet huffing that sounded like harmony bells to Sephiroth, enthralling him more.

        In that instant Sephiroth knew with utmost certainty, he was doomed _. _

~oOo~oO~oOo~oOo~oO~oOo~

        Over the course of the next month, he interacted with Cloud, learning his likes and dislikes, sharing his own in return. Zack had quickly befriended the blond and used it as an excuse to drag him to the SOLDIER floors and his apartment where they met, keeping a low profile to avoid suspicion of favouritism, or worse, Hojo. He wanted to be certain Cloud could protect himself before he rubbed the fact he had a soulmate in the scientist’s face. Cloud was sweet, and small, and perfect. There was no other way to describe it. 

        After a few days, they’d gotten to talking about how to proceed, what they wanted out of this, what was expected. To Sephiroth, it was simple. He wanted Cloud to be his, all the time. He wanted to protect him and shower him with affection, never let him out of sight. He’d been honest in saying he’d prefer to lock Cloud in his apartment and keep him away from the rest of the world, and drawn the most inexplicably pleasing blush to peachy cheeks.

        Then of course, Cloud was angry. He understood the intent behind the comment, but he wasn’t a pet or a doll. His little blond love wanted to be in SOLDIER, to go on missions and protect the people. From Sephiroth, he wanted a companion. He wasn’t ready for any kind of intimacy yet, wasn’t sure he wanted it. That hurt a little, but Cloud had explained. The authoritative difference between a cadet and the General would cause him problems. The General in  _ general _ , would cause him problems. The science department, if they knew about this, would cause Cloud problems. Right now the risks were just too high, and he was only fifteen.

        So they resolved to get him into SOLDIER. As a Third Class, the science department couldn’t whisk him away. Working directly under Sephiroth, the Turks couldn’t make him disappear without causing an uproar amongst the ranks of SOLDIER. With mako in his system, it’d be less likely Sephiroth would injure him on accident.

        “You’d better expect to break Zack’s promotion records, then,” Sephiroth had smirked. Cloud would rise faster then anyone. Not by favouritsim, either, after looking at his records. The  _ only _ reason Cloud hadn’t been put forward for early advancement into SOLDIER were his physical scores, none of which truly matter when mako comes into play.

        For the next two months, they met in secret at Zack’s apartment. Zack trained him in off hours with his preferred sword style. Genesis became his official mentor and emphatically praised his abilities with materia to Lazard. Angeal even spent time discussing sword designs with him, and was stunned at the concept work and mechanical logistics Cloud was capable of.

        In four months, Lazard emailed the labs with a recommendation for early advancement, and Cloud received his first mako treatment.

~oOo~oO~oOo~oOo~oO~oOo~

        What they didn’t account for, couldn’t have known ahead of time, was that Cloud’s absorption rate made his levels skyrocket. When he should have absorbed less than 20% of the first treatment, the bloodwork came back to indicate roughly 83%. Two months later after a handful of missions paired with Kunsel, who took the time to teach him duel wielding, his second treatment put his mako levels at the top of Second Class. Hojo's interest was certainly peaked.


End file.
